Author: Christi

Disclaimer: Not mine. Don’t sue. Please. You’ll end up owing me money, I’m that broke.

Author’s Note: This is becoming a serious addiction. Not good. Not good at all.

Dedication: To Lyssie, because she pimped Duality so much and every time she did, I squee-d. Besides, she seemed all mopey. So this is to de-mope her. And to Trish, who demanded underage OTP porn. Hopefully, this qualifies.

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Jack had a permanent smirk plastered across his face.

Of course, he knew that this was not winning him any points with Carter, who sat next to him, refusing to look his way other than to send him a death glare that could have stopped Anubis in his tracks. But really, he couldn’t help it.

“This is not funny,” she hissed at him.

“Oh come on, Carter. It’s a little funny.”

“Not even remotely.”

But it really was. It was surreal and giddy and really, fucking hilarious. Objectively, he could see that he should be taking this more seriously, because this could potentially be a rather awkward bump in the road of his new miniature-sized life as an everyday American teenager. But really, he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Because for all the reasons to be in trouble, getting very near to third base with Carter under the bleachers during yet another mind-numbing pep rally was the best ever. Even if third base was interrupted by a rather scandalized Coach Thurman.

It had all started out fairly innocently, the two of them sitting in the back, bored as usual. Except that Carter had worn some kind of cute flirty skirt that day and Jack had been more than usually frustrated with the fact that while they had been attached at the hip for nearly three months now as adolescent oddities, they had yet to do anything more than cuddle while watching the occasional movie. So when he had leaned over to whisper some very clichéd joke about lemmings in her ear and she had sent him that grin that he defined as Carter, aged fifteen or thirty-five, Jack had had enough.

In a move that an actual fifteen year old never would have been able to perform without risking a concussion, he had kissed her. Finally.

And that should have been the end of it, really. But in typical O’Neill fashion, he may have overlooked a few key details of their situation. Like the fact that six years of unfulfilled sexual tension mixed with really crazy teenage hormones led to…well, it led to activities that generally fell under the term ‘public indecency’.

Thankfully, they had reached the cover of the bleachers before he had managed to unhook her bra. Though he suspected that was only because he had been delightfully distracted by her sucking and nipping at his neck until he had a hickey the size of Kansas.

She had managed to find a fairly wide support beam to lean against, and suddenly the rhythms of their tongues matched the dry thrusting of his erection against her and damnit, he hadn’t felt this good in a really, really long time.

This was Sam who was clinging to him and nibbling on his collarbone, moaning loudly as he managed to get his palms up her shirt and against her nipples, rolling, rubbing, and tweaking them until he drew another, even more emphatic moan from her lips. Luckily, the cheering as someone announced the track team muffled the noise. It didn’t stop him from smirking though.

But her hands down the back of his pants, skin sliding against skin, certainly managed to.

The part of his brain that wasn’t currently blindsided with sensation wondered idly if she had been this bendy as the woman he used to know, considering her hands kept sliding down and her legs kept going up. The rest of him, the part that couldn’t breathe or feel or think of anything other than Sam, decided that it really didn’t matter. All that mattered right now was the fact that yes, she had worn that damn flippy skirt that had inadvertently started this all with only a pair of white cotton panties under it.

And his fingers had just slid up her thighs and were about to push past the cloth when…Coach Thurman had showed up.

Which is how they had ended up here, sitting outside Principal Warner’s office as Sam glared and Jack smirked. Really, he didn’t think anyone could blame him. Though now, as he looked back on it, one question begged to be asked.

“Carter?”

She sighed. It was a sound he knew, the I’d-better-humor-him-or-he’ll-make-life-miserable sigh. “What?”

“Exactly how bendy are you?”

His brain was in serious danger of overloading when a glint appeared in her eyes and suddenly, she was the one smirking. “You manage to get through this without getting us both suspended from school or making too many lewd comments, and then I’ll take you home and we can find out.”

Somehow, he never imagined that when being propositioned by Carter, the words ‘suspended from school’ would be part of the conversation. But he so wasn’t complaining, because for the first time since all of this had happened, he actually felt fifteen again rather than just looking it.

“So it wasn’t just a pep rally induced thing then?”

“Jack, if I ever show that much enthusiasm for a pep rally, shoot me.”

Yup. Two permanently plastered smirks on two giddy as hell teenagers about to be lectured within an inch of their lives. Glory days indeed.